Warriors
by MrStealYoGurl
Summary: Amidst the chaos and panic that have taken root following the Battle of Chicago, Bumblebee hopes to find peace – a word which has no meaning to Barricade. Set in the movieverse, post-AOE. One shot.


**AN: All aboard the hype train. Choo, choo. This is a complete one shot - for now. I may write more related to the following events, but at the moment, this is to sate my inappropriate thirst for a particular Decepticon. Please enjoy; all reviews are welcome and constructive criticism is appreciated!**

* * *

 **Warriors**

A deafening explosion echoed through the empty streets of Lake Arthur. The frosty, unblinking stars glared at what had been a placid New Mexico town, but was now abandoned save the sparse sprinkling of white adobes and a single, frustrated occupant.

Barricade roared as he cracked another telephone pole over his knee. The wood splintered with a sharp crack and electricity sparked from the live wires running through the base. He tossed the pieces into a storefront, delighting in the blowout of glass and clay bricks that resulted from the impact. He retracted his battle mask, the panels retreating into their housing along his angular jaw. His lip components were pulled back in a frenzied grin, but the expression soon faded into a sinister frown.

The town's citizens had successfully sought refuge during his spree. For all his effort in the demolition of his latest playground, there were no casualties to show for it. He could only hope the threat of harmed humans was enough to draw an Autobot out of hiding.

Barricade swiveled on dexterous feet and smashed his toe into an unsuspecting sedan. Steel crumpled with a sickening crunch. The vehicle flew several yards into the air before landing in a mangled heap. Barricade snorted fiercely at the unworthy opponent, the cool desert atmosphere gusting from his vents.

The Decepticon stalked the perimeter of his dry oasis. The besieged town was littered with unearthed and shattered telephone poles. A pattern of depressions in the dusty roads attested to anxious pacing. Demolished buildings smoldered from recent destruction. Sidewalks and landmarks were uprooted. Lake Arthur lay in various states of disarray thanks to its antagonist, who paused in his patrol and collapsed atop the roof of the town's humble police station. He sent several sporadic bursts of bullets into the side of the structure next door. Barricade's silver claws clicked as they fidgeted; the property damage was no longer able to sate his growing urge for violence.

Having rampaged for several hours, the Decepticon now sat and waited impatiently; for what, he didn't know. Playgrounds, he decided, were no fun without playmates.

He didn't have to wait long.

In the distance, a pair of headlights shimmered. Barricade's helm twitched in the direction of the encroaching entity. From miles away, the throaty roar of a powerful engine interrupted the briefly achieved quiet.

There was no readable energy signature to confirm that what approached was a desired combatant, but those were easily cloaked; besides, his scanners were hardly reliable. Energon deficiency had an ugly habit of disrupting important systems. Barricade suspected his fuel predicament was in part the reason he was so desperate for an Autobot. If he was going offline, his death wouldn't involve succumbing to starvation – it would come by the servos of the enemy that had stranded him on Earth.

Barricade didn't stand from his perch; instead, he remained hunched on the police station's roof and eagerly watched the advent of his potential adversary. A familiar yellow sports car appeared over the crest of the hill leading up to Lake Arthur. Black tires screeched upon finding purchase on the town's cracked asphalt. A sharp grille cut through the icy evening air. A protruding black bumper encasing massive vents fueled the building speed of the Camaro, whose nose plunged and headlights flashed with every dip in the blacktop.

Barricade grinned maliciously when he recognized the Autobot. He had found a playmate.

With a final rev, Bumblebee decelerated before coming to an idle in the town square. His piercing high beams illuminated the welcoming alabaster pillar in the center of Lake Arthur that Barricade had left erect as a joke. The slender, yellow chassis began to break apart; a myriad of plates and panels shuffled into their destined lodgings and the Autobot's bipedal frame began to take form. His helm rose out of the transformation and his optics ignited with color. Bumblebee stepped forward, pieces of his foot still settling into place, and rolled his lean shoulders back. His blunt digits stretched and his torso cinched to his protoform.

The turrets on Barricade's left hydraulic spun in a dizzying circle, the hostile rattle of reloading ammunition serving as a nonverbal warning.

Bumblebee hesitated. He did not draw his own weapon and instead politely – and pragmatically – kept his distance from his fickle rival.

When Barricade made no motion to attack, Bumblebee spoke, the intricate gears of his mouthpiece shifting with each word. "You're still alive. I'm impressed." The Autobot's voice was fuzzy with static; the vocal cords had been patched, but not repaired.

He cautiously continued his approach toward the seated Decepticon. Barricade was coiled like a vengeful snake. His machine gun clacked noisily as it whirred, but he didn't raise it against his foe – yet.

"The last time I saw you, you were in Chicago," Bumblebee reflected. He didn't speak bitterly; the Autobot sounded almost wistful as he spoke of the city rampage that had culminated in the dire fallout of their marooned race. "You were terminated."

"Apparently not," Barricade intoned, venom dripping from his rebuttal. His glare focused on his rival with amplifying intensity. The dual pair of scarlet optics was ablaze with abhorrence.

Bumblebee met Barricade's stare, his arctic optics cool and free of the fiery emotion displayed in the other mech's. The sight of the Autobot's calm, collected appearance only served to strengthen Barricade's resolve to rile his opponent. The Decepticon waited for the game to commence.

Unbeknownst to him, Bumblebee made the first move. "What are you doing here?" he asked, motioning softly at the decimated town.

"I'm bored," Barricade drawled. Bumblebee's gesturing fingers curled into his palm as his optics moved to take in the surrounding area, reviewing the destruction the Decepticon had wrought. A slim supraorbital ridge lifted in response to the haphazard results of his foe's supposed boredom. His optics flicked back to meet Barricade's again.

"How did you find me?" the rogue mech barked.

"You aren't exactly hiding," Bumblebee chided, pointedly looking around the immense expanse of open, flat territory. The plateau, assailed with debris from Barricade's tantrum, was a testament to the Decepticon's tacit desire for company.

"How did you find me?" Barricade repeated testily.

"The Amer—Amer—Amer—" Bumblebee coughed roughly, his mouthpiece contracting as his reply strained to leave his battered vocal cords. He shifted the armor sheathing his throat until his gentle goading slipped the cords' patch back into place. Barricade made note of the incident.

With his vocal connection restored, Bumblebee went on: "The American government's 'Transformers' rehabilitation initiative; they keep track of the cities affected by us. This town was added a few joors ago."

Barricade surprised Bumblebee by chuckling. The Autobot's gaze narrowed into suspicious slits, the fragile metal composing his visage wrinkling with the act.

"Who do you think added this town to the humans' list?" Barricade sniped. His radiant optics brimmed with malice. "M—M—Me," he answered. He replicated the whine of Bumblebee's failing vocal cords with cruel precision, and his stuttering taunt made Bumblebee twinge. The delicate metal folds between the Autobot's optics crinkled with agitation, fracturing his previously controlled façade.

Barricade reclined upon his makeshift throne, at last enjoying the game. He folded his claws and rested them on his torso, the ironic insignia 'Protect' and 'Serve' emblazoned across his knuckles. "I'm so glad keeping the humans' files regularly updated was a worthwhile endeavor," Barricade jeered, "I was beginning to think your lot would never find me."

Bumblebee's antennae lowered, his previously neutral stare soured. Anger bled into his smoldering glower. Barricade's dark frame tensed and his battle mask sank into place, anticipating an assault.

"I didn't come here to fight you, Barricade," Bumblebee growled, striving to regain his patience, "Something is coming: something that transcends the scope of our conflict."

Barricade's battle mask receded once more, revealing a growing sneer.

"Something ancient and unfriendly," the Autobot persisted.

"That's ominous…and vague," the Decepticon deadpanned, "Am I supposed to care about your unfounded premonitions?"

"Yes, because I came here to ask that you join us."

There was a long pause where both mechs regarded the other – Barricade looking for the punch line and Bumblebee looking for consideration.

Barricade abruptly howled with mirth, the derisive sound ringing in Bumblebee's audio receptors. The Autobot snarled.

"You're _serious_ ," Barricade wheezed, stepping down from his seat and boldly swaggering forward. Bumblebee stiffened as his rival drew near. Barricade was unpredictable; he was infamous for instilling a false sense of security in his victims. There was no discernible aggression in his stance, but that could change without provocation. Bumblebee had made the mistake of underestimating Barricade before – he had not done so since.

"And who, may I ask, is _us_?" Barricade thrummed, "The Prime has abandoned you, the humans have betrayed you, and your so-called comrades are seeking their own selfish pursuits."

At Bumblebee's bemused look, the Decepticon revealed churlishly, "I stay up to date with current events."

Barricade stepped to a halt in front of his rival, his marred claws curling threateningly at the ends of his massive hydraulics. "You are all that remains of an antiquated ideal of Autobot ideology. You are a prophet with no followers."

A wicked grin crept along Barricade's lip components. He vigorously analyzed the mech before him, the unsettling inspection made more pervasive by the constant readjustment of his quadoptics as they focused. He pulled back and straightened haughtily, looking down on Bumblebee despite their similar sizes.

Bumblebee was rigid under the scrutiny, never before having experienced this proximity to Barricade outside of battle. Just watching and waiting, as they were, was wholly unnerving.

Up close, Barricade's broad, black and white frame was highlighted with scars. Bullet holes riddled his armor; scratches disfigured his finish; the inner mechanisms of his locomotive systems gave occasional groans of protest at the Decepticon's confident movements. He was broken, but he was a survivor; this knowledge bolstered his arrogance.

"Check," Barricade hummed cheerily to himself. Before Bumblebee could guess at the meaning behind the utterance, the Decepticon cooed, "You came alone. It's dangerous alone, Autobot."

Barricade reached for him. Bumblebee jerked his shoulder back and activated the transformation sequence in his gun-bearing hydraulic. A series of relocating components seamlessly revealed his plasma cannon. "I said I don't want to fight. That doesn't mean I won't."

Barricade guffawed. "You claim peace but rely on violence. Hypocrisy – that is your faction's legacy."

The slender, metal segments underlying the Autobot's optics rose as his gaze narrowed. Rather than carry out the conflict Barricade so clearly desired, Bumblebee pressed on: "We stand a better chance against whatever's coming if we stand together. You said yourself that it's dangerous alone."

"Oh, but you poor, simple bug, don't you see?" the Decepticon teased, relishing the withering resolve of his opponent, "You seek to defend the humans; I seek to enslave them."

Barricade's facetious tone suddenly darkened into a nasty timbre. He shoved his face forward, inches from colliding with Bumblebee. "And what makes you think I would help the vermin who stranded me here?"

"Because it's the right thing to do," Bumblebee declared with valiance he did not feel, unwavering in the face of Barricade's wrath despite the serpentine chill that crept up his spine.

Barricade began to circle his uneasy prey. Every one of his deliberate steps was calculated. "There is no right or wrong. There is only propaganda – that which Optimus Prime has force-fed you from the beginning."

Barricade paused in front of Bumblebee. There was a touch of mania in his mocking expression. His fangs glittered in the dim light of the white, waxy moon above.

At the sacrilegious mention of Optimus, Bumblebee's fury flared.

"We can have pe—pe—pe—" Bumblebee grabbed his neck as his vocals shorted again, his frustration producing carelessness while handling his fragile throat. He suffered for the hasty movement when he inadvertently bent his neck's plates with his harsh grasp. He recoiled from his own palm, staring at it in mute shock.

"Peace?" Barricade finished, a sly smirk spreading his lip components. Bumblebee's alarmed optics found his rival's smug ones. "We're warriors, Bumblebee. We would abandon peace as quickly as we attained it. We need the violence."

The Decepticon studied his counterpart, beaming as his words penetrated the inviolability of the Autobot's disgusting principles. He watched, satisfied, as doubt wormed its way into the previously dedicated spark of his foe. Barricade turned away and dismissed Bumblebee with a wave, his gnarled claws gesturing flippantly. Perhaps starving was the lesser of two evils – offlining at the hands of such a pathetic creature was definitely less dignified.

Satisfied he had won this round, Barricade transformed; armor shifted effortlessly and rearranged into the wicked Mustang that shamelessly boasted the appeasement of law enforcement.

"Checkmate," Barricade purred.

Sirens erupted from the police vehicle. Barricade gained traction off Lake Arthur's dirt-encrusted asphalt and rocketed forward. With a thunderous rumble of his engine, Barricade left behind the sanctuary he had shortly found solitude in. With a nefarious laugh, he prolonged his and the Autobot's ceaseless game of chase.

Peace was a fable; he had a lifetime of scars, physical and otherwise, to prove it. But if Bumblebee wanted to place his faith in an unreachable philosophy, so be it; it meant more playtime for Barricade.


End file.
